Stepping Stones
by Nine-Tailed Writer
Summary: Former teenage prostitute Kurt Hummel knows that the path to happiness never did run smooth. Then he discovers that there are stepping stones around every corner. Blaine was one of them.
1. The Bad Touch

**New story! Each chap is gonna be circa 1,000 words, short and sweet :) Bare with me...it gets better. I think :)**

**Warnings: dub-con, multiple partners, abuse (don't worry it's not detailed), barebacking**

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**Stepping Stones**

**Chapter One: The Bad Touch**

It was always the screaming that drew him to the window. Kurt pressed his nose against the glass pane, staring out longingly at the laughing, joyous children chasing each other in the play park across the street. They were playing a game of Tag, or maybe it was Hide-and-Seek when he saw one of the children stoop down behind the slide.

The desire to open the window, jump down three stories and join the playing children was stronger in his stomach than the other days. Sometimes, if he closed his eyes tight enough, he could imagine himself doing just that. But then he thought of how much different he was than they; that instead of playing with him they might avoid him like the plague or an alien. These thoughts brought Kurt back to reality and made him believe what his father said: the outside world was too dangerous for an innocent boy like him. This was why he couldn't leave.

Nonetheless, he still tortured himself by staring at them whenever he got a reprieve. Something about them inspired him and compelled him towards their childish nature. Their energy took the form of vibrant, dancing colors in a dreary, cold room. Every laugh and scream and cry reminded him of when he used to go to middle school not because he enjoyed learning, but because he knew all his friends were there. He was too old for middle school now. He was fifteen and although he had missed two years already from high school, he couldn't quell his anticipation when he thought of getting the opportunity to go.

"Get back in bed," a rough voice murmured. His time was up. With a lingering glance, he forcefully turned away from the vibrancy and towards the large naked form in his bed flapping his arm around for Kurt's body. He didn't like this one; not that he liked the others either but this one was worse. His punishments were too harsh, his commands too severe and he spanked even harder when Kurt said the safe word. He went to the bed quickly though, not wanting to disobey, and eased himself onto the satin sheets. Immediately, an arm packed tight with muscles wrapped around his middle and crushed him to the body behind him. After he was tucked in, the same hand starting wandering Kurt's body with the palm large enough to cover almost half of his chest. His effort to wriggle away from the hardening cock pressing against his ass was futile.

He closed his eyes as he was roughly shoved onto his back. His legs were hoisted up onto the man's shoulders and then calloused hands gripped his waist, the fingers digging into the bruises already there. Kurt bit his lip to keep from crying out. It was always better to close his eyes so he could pretend nothing was going on with his body. The moist, blunt head of the man's cock pressed against Kurt's anus and then he thrust forward, burying himself completely in Kurt.

The scream bubbled up and before he could stop it, it just came out. He instantly clamped his hand on his mouth and looked up, frightened, at the commanding man above him. The man's eyes were closed, his face contorted in pleasure and luckily, the feeling of being buried inside Kurt distracted him from the scream. He wasn't supposed to make a sound because it would mean he disobeyed a command. And disobeying commands lead to penalties.

The thrusting started and with each push, Kurt's small body was shoved up which caused his head to hit the headboard. The bed squeaked with their movement. He gripped the sheets and shut his eyes even tighter, desperately trying to escape the confines of his mind. If he relaxed and let his mind wander, he could break down the walls, disassociate himself with what was happening and run away to paradise. In paradise, his mother hadn't died, his dad's store hadn't burnt down and they weren't in this position. They had money, were living happily in a blue two-story house with white trim and Kurt had a lot of friends in high school.

_Selfish_ the voice whispered to him. Always his saving grace – or maybe it was his pitfall. The Voice constantly reminded him of his ultimate duty. He had to take care of his father as his mother had done. Andy was a quick-tempered, irrational man who forgot important appointments but always remembered to invite his friends over to watch the Eagles play whatever team. It was Kurt's job to take over with his mom's absence and this was his way of repaying his father for putting bread on the table and giving him shelter for the last fifteen years. Sacrifice was necessary if he wanted to keep the family together. Because if he didn't his father would leave and if he did, Kurt would be alone. More than anything, he was _terrified _of being alone. Andy, Kurt suspected, was afraid of being alone too. No matter what retrospect they took it from, they couldn't abandon each other.

_Always be selfless. Abnegation is key. _Those were his mother's words, the one lesson Kurt would always remember and the Voice never failed to repeat. The meaning was probably warped now, distorted and disfigured when Kurt's mind shattered but it was always impossible to disobey. Even if he went through three to four men a day of varying personalities and structures, he was always to remain selfless, to put others – namely his father – first, above anything, and everything else after.

On the bright side, his birthday was tomorrow and he'd be sixteen. He would most definitely get the day off from servicing and even a three-course meal! How much better can it get? His father would praise him for his good work for the past year and encourage him to hope more of them getting out of this dingy apartment for good. Kurt always thought of the future, of where he would be ten years from now. When he was thirteen and had first started out servicing, he had dreamt of where he would be a year from then. Three years later and he was in the same position. From then on, he knew he should be more humble and try not to expect too much out of things. He had to take it slow and steady and understand that good things came to people who wait and had a lot of patience. The more patience he had, he believed, the greater the outcome of his endeavors.

All his thinking and mind-wandering lasted until the man came inside Kurt with a raucous shout. He was wearing a condom, of course, but sometimes they were stubborn and refused to put one on. They were always bigger and stronger than him so forcing Kurt into submission was no big deal. He would tell his father after but Andy knew about as much as Kurt did in what to do about the situation. Both of them treated it as nothing and eventually, it became nothing.

The man fell atop Kurt then with a groan rolled over onto his side. He dragged Kurt's body towards him again, bunching up the sheets and rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder. Hot air blew on his ear but it barely registered. Some of them liked to cuddle although why they couldn't find a real lover instead of a substitute like him, he would never know. Nevertheless, tomorrow was his birthday and as the thought settled in, excitement flared through his body. His whole body thrummed in anticipation. Andy might even buy him that twenty-dollar sweater he saw online! He couldn't wait and soon enough, the day's work was enough to knock him out for the rest of the evening until five minutes before his next customer, Andy came to wake him up so he could get ready.


	2. What I Thought

**Maybe a little more than 1k words sometimes...**

**Warnings: the same as last time**

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**Chapter Two: What I Thought**

He woke up the next morning in soiled sheets. Great, he must have passed out last night. He rolled over onto his back and sat up with minimal dragging of his butt on the bed as possible. He lowered himself onto the mattress and leaned back against the headboard. There were colorful bruises all over his body but when he remembered that today was the big day, the pain ebbed away to a dull throb.

He looked down from the ceiling and noticed his father sitting on the edge of the bed. Andy was looking down at something in his hand and Kurt figured it was a picture of Marina, his wife. Whenever he did that it meant he was making a tough decision and once, Kurt overheard him asking the picture for advice. It hurt Kurt something deep and fierce when he saw his father so helpless but it encouraged his determination to work harder and make things better for the both of them.

"Hey dad," he said to tell Andy he was awake. He brushed his hair out of his eyes and made a note to cut it before he showered.

His dad turned towards him and smiled briefly, his blue eyes a reflection of Kurt's. If it wasn't for the dark bags under his eyes and the fifty-pound gain in the last three years, Andy would have been an extremely handsome and dapper man. Kurt prided himself in following the footsteps of his father, his role model, but maybe with a few adjustments.

"Happy birthday, kiddo. How old are you now, ten?"

Kurt laughed not because the joke was funny since his father said the same thing every year, but because sometimes the conversation needed a little push other than a simple smile. "Sixteen, actually. Do I smell…" he sniffed the air, "bacon?"

Andy nodded. "Yeah, breakfast is almost finished. How you feeling this morning?"

Kurt answered hesitantly. "I'm fine. A little sore, but that's usual." Dread settled in his stomach. Comfortable conversations like these were usually the prime to something awful. He had a feeling his birthday wasn't going to turn out very well.

"I need a huge favor," Andy began. "We need about fifty bucks again to pay the gas bill and the deadline is tomorrow." Kurt already knew what he was going to ask and tried to keep his face as expressionless as possible. "Do you mind taking a customer today? It's only one and then you're free to do whatever you want."

Kurt breathed in relief. Only one customer, he could do that. It was his punishment for again not being humble enough to let Fate do her work with his life. He needed to stop rushing into things, to prevent himself more from overestimating and expecting situations to always go his way. _Selfish _the Voice whispered and it was partly true.

He put on a bright smile. "One customer isn't a problem dad. When is he coming?"

His father grinned at Kurt's approval. Not that he had a choice, but if Kurt said okay his father would be happy and he needed his father to be happy more often. "At around three so you have enough time to eat and do things."

"That's great!" Kurt commented. "There's a new episode of-"

"I'm inviting some of my friends over to watch the Eagles versus Giants game today," his father cut in with that steady smile he always wore when he dared Kurt to be upset.

_Stop being selfish! _it said. The Eagles made his father cheerful and Kurt didn't want to be responsible for the abrupt switch in Andy's mood. "Sure," he said even though he hated football. _Sacrifices, Kurt _he reminded himself. _It'll pay off in the end_. "I'd love too."

"Great!" Andy said and patted Kurt on the head. "I think the bacon is finished by now. Clean up and come eat." He left with a skip in his step, the previous anger hanging off a cliff having receded. Kurt hated his father's friends because they ruled Andy's life. They used Kurt's body sometimes without paying and although Andy didn't object, Kurt could see that he was upset about it. Feigning ignorance, however, was one of Andy' specialties so even when he turned away from them using Kurt, rose the volume on the TV and kicked back with a beer in his hand, Kurt knew that secretly he cared and he was only doing it to protect Kurt. His dad sure had a funny way of showing sincerity but by now Kurt had grown to accept it.

He hopped off the bed and limped to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, he grimaced as some of the cold water splashed on him. The heater just _had _to stop working on his birthday, didn't it? He clenched his teeth and took the fastest shower in his life. After brushing his teeth, he toweled off and changed into an oversized tee and some ripped jeans. There was nothing on the bed so maybe his present was in the living room like the last time. Last year his present was the new flat screen TV and although he barely had time to watch it with his father using it all the time, the thought that Andy would buy him something so expensive warmed him.

He walked out into the kitchen just as Andy placed the steaming platter of bacon and toast on the table. His eyes feasted on the sight before his mouth did. The bacon was slightly burnt and salty to his liking and the toast was fresh out the oven. The orange juice was freshly squeezed and pulpy, his favorite. When he was on his third toast he realized his father wasn't eating and looked up to see Andy propping his chin up with a hand, staring at him.

Kurt was afraid he did something wrong. "Why aren't you eating?"

Andy shook his head. "I've had my fill. Today's all about you, yanno?"

Kurt smiled. His dad was in a good mood today meaning the Eagles had a strong chance of winning this game. He continued eating until his stomach couldn't take any more and was further surprised when his father didn't want his help in washing the dishes.

He waited until his dad was finished to follow him into the living room. He took a seat on the carpet next to his Andy's feet since his friends would take up all the other spaces and his father told Kurt not to inconvenience them. The TV came on and Andy changed it to the sports station. A knock came on the door and with a nudge from Andy's foot, Kurt went to answer it.

He opened the door to six giant, rowdy men wearing torn or stained Eagles shirts and smelling of beer and cigarettes. He smiled politely and allowed them inside; jolting when one of them spanked his ass with a gap-toothed grin. Their putrid odor filled the place which would have been a studio apartment if it wasn't for the wall blocking off the bedrooms. Kurt checked to see if that was the last and closed the door. He rested his head against the cool wood and took deep breaths. The game was three hours and when it finished, the sign for the drinking to begin, he would be in the room with his customer. Honestly, servicing was better than being around these vile men Andy called friends.

"Come on 'ere and sit on ma lap, boy!" one of them shouted. He plastered on a grin and walked over to the man in the stained grey blouse and sat on his lap. He was roughly adjusted so his side was pressed against the sweaty chest. He glanced over at his father who quickly looked away.

The game was spectacular, not because Kurt thought so, but because none of them felt the need to use him. Now was the time where he had to sneakily escape before they got themselves shit-faced drunk and turned on him. While the man was busy conversing with another, he got up and walked away to the bedroom, making it there safely. In the confines of his room he smelled like beer so he stripped off the tee and jeans, took a quick rinse and settled into bed in one of his father's shirts. He liked wearing them because they made him feel protected and was more comfortable than standing around naked.

In his drawer where he kept the few books he owned, he ran his finger along the spines and decided to dwell on the adventures of Moby Dick. He had read the book four times already but each time he did, there was always something new to discover that his eyes had somehow skimmed over. Herman Melville took him to the sea, something he had never seen, and the wide, dangerous oceans. The whale-hunting didn't interest him but the unlimited freedom of untamed nature and its picturesque qualities did.

He read until the voices in the living room died down to murmurs and soft laughter. Then a knock on the door and Kurt knew it was time. He placed the book back in the cupboard and began unbuttoning his shirt when his dad's head poked in.

"You ready?" he asked and Kurt nodded. He put the shirt in the cupboard too and moved to stand by the foot of the bed.

A short, stout man with circular glasses and a balding head entered. His eyes were shrewd, his nose twisted as though broken several times and the glasses really didn't suit him, almost like a disguise. He wore standard formal clothes, minus the tie, with spit-shined pointy-tipped shoes. The customer was out of place in an area like this but he shouldn't really be one to judge. Kurt could have sworn he spied a gun in a holster by his waist but he doubted it as it was quickly hidden from view.

He assessed Kurt from head to toe then licked his lips. He walked over, placed two hands on Kurt's shoulders and forced him to the ground. Kurt grunted when his knees hit the wood and kept his head low. Right in front of his face, the man unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers. His erection sprang free, just shy from his lips. Pre-come beaded at the tip.

"Now suck it like the little _slut _you are."

Kurt opened up and tried not to bring back up his breakfast as the man shoved his cock in his mouth. He held onto the back of Kurt's head and fucked his mouth brutally, grunting and groaning as he did so.

"Oh yeah, take it!" His eyes were squeezed shut and the grip on Kurt's head was harder. His cock touched the back of his throat and bile rose every time but he swallowed it back down. In a couple more thrusts the man came and when his grip loosened, Kurt rapidly pulled back so the come splattered on his face and he didn't have to swallow the disgusting fluid.

"That was great," he said and when Kurt dropped his gaze, again he saw the gun in the holster and knew it wasn't a mind trick this time. "Get me hard again. I'm gonna take as much as I could get in this hour." Kurt reached up and _there_, on the inside of the man's jacket was an odd-shaped buckle glinting in the light. Kurt failed to realize what it meant so he got back to work and began slowly stroking his cock. He didn't want to live through this one so he closed his eyes to escape.

He broke down the uncreative walls of his mind and let his imagination run free to Nirvana.

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**Tell me what you think people! Is it good? Or am I wasting my time? Reviews are nice :)**


	3. A Little Push

**I wasn't expecting to write this much but shit happened. **

**Warnings: non-con, incest (it's limited to one paragraph, don't freak out)**

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**Chapter Three: A Little Push**

His dad wasn't home for several days. Kurt wasn't accustomed to such long absences. No worries, maybe it was a test to see how he would cope if his father had to leave him in an emergency. Kurt started the first day of the Absence by cleaning up the two bedrooms. His father's was a pile of rotting food and dirty laundry that took 3 – 4 hours to clean. He couldn't put the clothes in the washing machine as Andy had forgotten to pay the electricity bill again. He gathered them in a basket and placed them in the laundry room to hand-wash later.

He vacuumed the living room, mopped the kitchen and changed the table cloth on the dining room table which was soiled with all manners of liquids and dried foods. He cleaned the entire two-bedroom apartment and even changed the carpets and rugs so the colors complimented the mauve walls and the cream sofas. He was thoroughly pleased with his refurbishment and hoped that when his father came home, he would be too.

He was already envisioning the pat on his head, a full plate of food and the honor of sitting on the right hand side of his father as he watched one of his Eagles game, although Kurt would more be admiring Andy from the side view and gloating at the other men than actually watching the game.

He dragged the two garbage bags to the backdoor, washed his hands then decided to take a ten-minute rest before taking them out. While sprawled on the couch – a luxury he wasn't allowed to have when his father was home – a knock on the door came. Kurt dragged his body off the couch and looked through the peephole. It was the landlord.

He opened the door. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Your rent is due," the landlord huffed. He was two-hundred and fifty pounds of fat and muscle on a 5"11 frame with thick sideburns leading down to a sparsely-covered chin. The grizzly hair on his head matched the hair that covered his arms. He was always smoking a cigarette and he had a missing front tooth and dark lips. Kurt forgot his real name but the other renters called him Grizzly.

"My dad isn't home right now-"

"Don't give me any excuses, boy!" he shouted. Kurt cringed. When Grizzly got angry he was both a sight to behold and to fear. He literally resembled a grizzly bear on its hind legs when he got so deep into the argument that he raised his arms and bared his teeth and spit flew from his mouth as he roared. Kurt took a cautious step back, not wanting to be too near to those large arms that could break him in two as easily as breaking a twig.

Kurt apologized. "I promise as soon as my dad gets home he'll pay. He won't be gone for long-"

Grizzly growled, his shrewd eyes narrowing suspiciously at Kurt. He peered inside the apartment then looked back down at him. "Pay the rent or you leave," he hissed. Then he turned his broad shoulders and headed down the flight of stairs where his apartment was on the first floor. Kurt closed the door and took in a large gulp of air. He was gone. For now.

Kurt wondered what he would do if his father didn't come back by the next day. Andy was unemployed at the moment but luckily the unemployment check which was a meager one thousand dollars was just enough to pay the monthly rent with two hundred dollars to spare. One hundred dollars from the spare money was used to make groceries (Kurt did the groceries by himself while his father waited in the parking lot) and the other hundred… Well Kurt didn't know where that went but he assumed his father was putting it to good use, for example, saving up for a better apartment in a cleaner and safer neighborhood.

Andy wasn't always jobless, however. Three and a half years ago Andy had owned a thrift store called 'Andy's Thrifts'. It wasn't the best of businesses but the income was enough to help pay the mortgage and bills although the bulk of the money came from his mother's pay check from working as a nurse. Kurt was going to middle school at that time and had never been happier. Then on September 6th a freak accident occurred where the thrift store was burnt to the ground. His mother, Marina, had a free shift at the hospital and since the clerk at the store had quit – she complained too much of late paydays – she had stepped in to work temporarily while they found a new one. The cause of the fire was unknown. Marina's body had been so charred that they couldn't put her in the coffin. Kurt had worn his one black suit to the funeral and didn't even cry. Andy was a mess and Kurt had to be the one to comfort him. The day after Kurt had broken down when all the events were finally processed but Andy wasn't there. He was out in a bar drinking away his worries and drowning his regrets so Kurt had to comfort himself by singing to keep the scary, lonely thoughts away. It was only then that he had discovered he had a voice like his mother's that had never truly broken.

In one day Andy had lost everything - his wife, his business and everything he had worked for. It had left Andy so distraught and broken that Kurt feared for the months that his father had buried himself in empty beer bottles and cigarette packs that he would never resurface. He was terrified that his father would remain shattered for the rest of his life, leaving Kurt with a million and one responsibilities he didn't understand or know about. He was afraid that Andy would leave him alone and helpless and in effect, without any parents at all. Kurt had cried every night since then until one day he had awoken to see a clean living room with no alcohol in sight. Andy had gone out and gotten himself a job at a gas station not far from where they lived. It was a start, slow-going but a beginning nonetheless.

The job wasn't enough though. It was never enough and Kurt worried that Andy had taken that revelation to a whole new level of hell bent destruction and debauched self-loathing. Kurt analyzed the alcoholic phase as part one to the self-destruction series. He presumed that part two would be even worse. The pay at the gas station couldn't cover the electricity bills or the mortgage so they eventually lost the house. Kurt had offered to get a job at the supermarket once but before the sentence was even out of his mouth Andy had shot it down. He had to prove himself, Kurt thought, but to whom he didn't know. He couldn't understand why Andy was trying so desperately to show that he could take care of himself without Marina around when there was no one as far as Kurt knew to witness it.

The constant need for approval was driving them apart as apparently Kurt's wasn't enough for Andy. There was another force pushing his dad constantly over the edge. It made Kurt paranoid of when his father was going to fall over and although he hadn't realized, the force had begun pushing him too. It had driven him to the point where he forced Andy to come to the startling insight that they weren't going to make it if Andy did everything by himself. He needed someone by his side and now that Marina was gone, Kurt was the only one who could take that place.

It led Kurt to agree to offer up his body as the ultimate sacrifice. Marina had always made sacrifices – she worked extra shifts, she held herself back from indulging in simple things such as clothes and makeup and declined going out with her friends or even having a social life. Now it was Kurt's turn.

It was sort of ironic, or funny, whichever one, that the day before Marina died she had told Kurt that if she left, it was his job to take over and be a better man than his father. Kurt had taken the advice with honor that she had so much faith in him to entrust such important duties to him even though he was only twelve. That was another scenario that he overanalyzed: that maybe his mother had known what was going to happen the next day and was preparing for it. He had scrapped the idea in the beginning because one thought led to the other and the topic of suicide came up. It hadn't made sense to him back then and it still didn't now. Perhaps there was a secret side to his mother that he had never seen and she had never shown. She could have been silently suffering, bottling up all her negative emotions inside her until one day it spilled and she chose the only way out. Thoughts like those made Kurt cry though so he tried to never tread in that area.

The cleaning up after the fire was the worst. Everything was lost. Debts piled up. The cause of the fire was still unknown. Kurt had told himself that the reason his father had fallen into such despair was because he wasn't being a good enough son and his mother's shoes were too large for him to fill at the moment. He tried his best though and although he craved some attention and encouragement from Andy that Marina had previously given him, he understood that the two were opposites and came to accept that Andy could never be his mother too. There had to be a balance of push and pull and as Andy fell and fell, Kurt was always there to pull him up.

The job at the gas station lasted three months before Andy got fired for sexually harassing a customer. He had come home in the middle of the morning after he lost it stinking of beer and piss. Kurt was the one who had to drag the disoriented man to the bathroom to clean him up and then put him in bed. He had to run to the 7-Eleven a block over to pick up painkillers and in the morning he made fried eggs and sausages and forced his hung-over dad to eat all of it and take the pills. Andy had slept the rest of the morning and way into the afternoon before waking up to a lunch of spaghetti and meatballs. Kurt was interested in cooking so Marina had taught him the basics. From then on all he had to do was follow the recipes in the cookbook and use the ingredients they had. Eventually the staple became rice, some sort of legumes and chicken because they didn't have enough money to buy all the fancy ingredients. Chicken soon became an amenity.

It was on his lowest of low days when Andy was just lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling that things changed. Kurt had gone to prod him from his daydreaming to come eat when Andy had grabbed his arm. He could never forget how cold and emotionless Andy's eyes had looked that day. Someone had told him something, Kurt _knew_ because his dad didn't do things like that without some outside motivation. He was twelve, close to thirteen when it happened. Andy led him to his bedroom and took off all of Kurt's clothes. He sat on the bed and commanded Kurt to stay right where he was. His father's eyes raked his body. For a while they stayed in that position, whatever things running through Andy's head obviously putting him in a dilemma. He had two choices but there was a tug of war in his mind as to which one to take. Kurt had stood there, shivering slightly, and innocent to what would happen next.

Then Andy stood and began taking off his clothes. Kurt had tried to run because he had sneaked a peek at enough Lifetime movies – Marina was obsessed with the channel – to know where these things led. He wasn't fast enough to get to the door or strong enough to break his father's hold. Andy pinned him to the bed, chest down and held his hands with one hand in a vice grip. Kurt had flailed and kicked and screamed but Andy was too strong and overpowering. A drawer was opened and a rag stuffed in his mouth to shut him up. The bottle of the baby oil he used to moisturize his skin on the nightstand was opened but Kurt couldn't see what it was being used for. Then there was that pressure on his ass and the blinding pain and more screaming and crying and _oh God _he wouldn't stop and Kurt had to just lie there high and dry until it was over. Andy let go of his hands, got off the bed and picked up his clothes. He left Kurt with blood smeared on his thighs and baby oil soaking into the sheets. He felt the sticky release of his father on his back.

Kurt figured it was right around there when things started getting hazy in his mind and it was hard to distinguish between right and wrong. That was a wrong thing for his father to do, but honestly he didn't have a choice. Kurt had to choose eventually and what he came too was that his father always did things for the betterment of their lives or what else reason would Marina marry him.

Kurt rubbed his eyes. Sometimes he didn't know anymore what to do or what was wrong with him. There was _something _he was missing but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Lifetime sent people like him to therapists but in reality, there wasn't always some caring neighbor or a distant relative to break in and rescue him. Then again, did Kurt really need rescuing? As far as he was concerned, things were going pretty well except for the unexpected Absence. But that would soon come to pass and life would return to normal. If his life was considered normal, anyways.

His nose crinkled as the odor of garbage came to him so he opened the backdoor to carry the four bags out. He clambered down the metal stairs and around the front of the building where the huge green dumpster was. He wasn't allowed to go outside except to take out the garbage so if his father was watching him as the test was going on, he wouldn't be upset.

As he dragged the second bag outside he noticed that the children were in the park on a Wednesday morning meaning that either it was a holiday or something happened at their school that gave them a day off. He stood there entranced for a couple minutes and saw that they were several years younger than him. A little boy ran, tripped over the edge of the sandpit and grated his knee on the ground. He didn't cry or scream or beat up on the ground like little children were wont to do. Instead he got up on one knee and inspected the damaged knee, spat into his hand and rubbed the saliva over the cut. Then he patted it, got up and kept on running. Kurt's mouth twitched into a smile.

He wanted to get a little bit closer. He used the excuse of dragging the garbage bag out to the bin. There were 10 – 15 children in thin clothes and some boys even had their shirts off to battle the heat of the encroaching summer. By now the firemen should have opened the fire hydrant and allow them to bathe naked or half-naked for a couple hours before their parents would come take them away. Of course, Kurt had felt a deep sense of yearning when he watched them as he sat in his bedroom with the windows wide open to allow the hot air some exit. He would be shirtless because clothes were too much of a hindrance and not wanting to take a second shower on those mornings because Andy would chastise him about wasting water and running up the bill. He couldn't go outside because of the bruises on his body and he didn't want to handle all the questions.

Then one of them stopped playing and turned to directly face Kurt. The little boy's face and hair were dirty with sand and something brown – hopefully chocolate as it hadn't rained in some days to make mud puddles – and when Kurt looked down he saw that was the one with the bruise on his knee. He limped over to the gate and held onto it, staring at him. Kurt didn't like the fact that the kid noticed him because eventually all the others would stop and stare and see what a freak Kurt was. He really didn't want that so he rushed inside and grabbed the two bags at once so he would finish the job quickly and run back inside to shut the door and continue with his cleaning.

By the time he made it to the bin, however, the little boy had run across the empty street and stopped by the apartment's mailbox, just a few feet away from Kurt. He stood shock-still, not knowing how to react to strangers. The strangers he knew directed him in their ministrations but never before had he taken control unless he had to encourage a customer by unbuttoning their pants and even after that they would easily take over. The boy took a step forward and Kurt took one back in the direction of the metal stairs, ready to run if needed. The kid took another one forward, Kurt stepped back and then a grin broke across his chubby face. The little boy laughed and extended a dirty hand. Kurt stared at it.

"My name's Sam. What's yours?"

Kurt swallowed hard before answering. "Kurt." But his voice cracked so he tried it again. "My name's Kurt." It had been a while since someone cared about asking him for his name.

Sam dropped his arm when he realized Kurt wasn't going to take it. "Do you wanna play?"

His eyes widened. "W-what?"

Sam repeated himself. Kurt shook his head.

"I can't," Kurt said.

"Why not?" Sam pressed. He took another step forward. "It's just for a little while."

"I have a lot of things to do. I don't have the time." Kurt turned around and flung the bags into the dumpster. He dusted his hands off and when he turned back, Sam was right up under him. Kurt jumped back.

"I have to go now," he mumbled and quickly spun away to speed-walk back to the stairs.

"Maybe tomorrow?" Sam called out to him. The request made him pause, surprised that the little boy was so persistent to want to play with someone like _him_.

Kurt faced Sam and offered a little smile. "Maybe tomorrow." Then he clambered up the metal stairs, through the back door and locked it behind him. There was a stupid grin on his face and his heart wouldn't stop beating wildly in his chest. Kurt took a seat in the living room and ran through the conversation in his head.

"Maybe," he told himself. To add to the irregularities of the day, the Voice hadn't rebuffed him. When he looked up he saw that he hadn't gotten anywhere with his refurbishing. He got up, cracked his neck and got to work.

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**Follows, faves, reviews - all are greatly appreciated. I feed off of those things.**


	4. The First Step

**Warnings: there are actually no warnings for this chapter :O**

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**Chapter Four: The First Step**

Kurt crossed off Day 5 of the Absence.

His father hadn't called or left any voice messages on the house phone. Kurt had checked every hour for the past four days. On Day 2 he had been depressed that his father hadn't come home to see the hard work he had put into the apartment. He had worked from 8am to 8pm and only when he had gone to sleep did he think about Sam and going out to play. He had refurnished to the best of his abilities. By Day 3, in the middle of the night while he was sleeping, he woke up because he had heard Andy's bedroom door open and close. He had rushed outside to see if his father was back but encountered no one. Kurt tried to keep awake the rest of the night but ended up falling asleep anyways.

When he awoke on Day 4 he checked his father's room and closet and noticed that several pieces of clothing had gone missing. Andy had come home that night and left just as swiftly. Kurt's body had felt like dead weight as he sat on Andy's bed and counted his failures. His father probably didn't think the apartment was nice enough to come back too. He didn't make Kurt aware of his presence because he knew Kurt would ask him what he thought and he wouldn't want to upset the 16-year-old with repulsive comments. He had fallen into such a state of despair that he was able to ignore the protests of his stomach, skipping breakfast and lunch and overlook the itch of not having a shower.

But then the phone rang and his body somehow found the energy to run to the phone in the living room and answer on the second ring.

"Hello?" he answered breathlessly.

"Hey kiddo," the warm voice of his father said. Kurt instantly felt relieved.

"Dad, where are you?" he asked.

"I'm doing some…work at the moment. I'll be home in a couple of days. You be good, okay?"

Kurt frowned that the conversation was finished so soon. "Will you call to-"

"I have to go now," his dad said and on the other end Kurt heard a spark of feminine laughter and a low growl. "By the way I love what you did with the place."

"Thanks," Kurt said into the dial tone. He hung up the phone but somehow the compliment didn't reach through to him. He had imagined the first phone call conversation to be so much more different where Andy would ask him how he was going and what he was doing to pass the time and explain why he was gone for so many days and why he couldn't get into contact. Then he would spend five minutes praising Kurt on what he did with the place and tell him that he was the best son in the world. Then he would assure Kurt that he would be home very soon, even by the next day, and it would keep Kurt going with a bright smile and a light heart for however long his dad needed to get back home.

The compliment would have to do, though. Kurt thought for a second that his father would have known that the compliment was just enough to keep Kurt happy for a day or two but he brushed off the idea. Andy would have given the compliment because he meant it, not to keep Kurt's wandering thoughts some company while he was away doing God-knows-what.

On Day 5 he started criticizing his work. Maybe he didn't receive much commendation because he didn't try hard enough. He stood in the center again and turned slowly in a clockwise direction. The couches were mauve green and the curtains cream, the carpet was dingy and flaking so he replaced it with a brown tufted one he found in a box in the laundry room. There were only enough cream curtains in the cupboard to put in the living room so he matched the curtains in the dining room with the carpet as best as he could and placed a rectangular, bright yellow and white polka dot frieze carpet under the dining room table which added a fantastic splash of color. For the kitchen he found a Saxony carpet decorated with fruits. There was no need to place an outdoor carpet in front the door because the last one they had been stolen.

He inspected the area and tried to think of ways to make it even better. Then suddenly his body just gave up on him. He felt ridiculously drained, like if he was working for weeks, non-stop. His stomach grumbled so he went to make a cheese sandwich. There was no electricity so he tried to eat out the cheese first because it was the fastest to spoil. He didn't know what to do with the eggs so he left them there. The mayonnaise would take 2 – 3 days so he ate sausages with ketchup and mayo too.

He had forgotten about the boy until Day 10 when he was just lying there on the couch, sick of cheese and sausages and so lazy that he could barely move his fingers. He was bored out of his mind. There was no TV, no fans; he couldn't even boil some rice. He had hand-washed the clothes until his fingers were raw and his nails had turned soft and split. The apartment was spiff and clean. His father didn't call and there were no visitors, unless the men who came knocking at his door were considered visitors.

The first time someone knocked Kurt had naively opened the door, thinking it was the landlord and prepared with an excuse as to why the rent wasn't paid yet. A tall, lanky old man stood on the other side of the door with crooked glasses and in a suit and tie. He even had a briefcase in his hand. He had looked down at Kurt with the same piggy eyes that all his customers had.

"Hello. Is your father home?" the man asked. Kurt shook his head. "Can I come in?" He shook his head again. "Why not?" Kurt slammed the door in his face and locked it.

From then on he checked the peephole before opening the door to anyone. The landlord didn't come but there were several other men, up to five men a day. Sometimes they knocked for five minutes, sometimes for a half hour and some of them talked to him. They said that they knew he was in there alone, his father wouldn't be back for a long time and other chiding remarks that made him lock himself in his bedroom and only come out to bathe and eat. They tried to persuade him by saying things like his father sent them to take care of him but Kurt knew better than that. The second lesson his father taught him was to never speak to strangers unless Andy approved of them. Andy would have called and told him he was having customers. Kurt firmly held onto that belief and kept ignoring the jarring comments and the banging down of the front door. Eventually he shifted a chair to the door and propped it up under the doorknob. Just in case.

Sam came across his mind when there were no men that morning. It took a great deal of persuasion to get him to even walk to the backdoor. He gave himself a motivational speech before clambering down the stairs and walking around the side to the mailbox.

There were children with their messy faces and bruised knees. Their faces were unfamiliar. Kurt remembered that it had been several days since the last he talked to Sam. With the attention span of an 8-year old, Kurt was assured that Sam would have forgotten about him the day after when Kurt didn't come out. He studied each of their faces from afar while trying to convince himself that Sam wasn't there and he should just go back inside and do nothing. But then one of the kids broke away from their game of Tag and came to the fence. From across the street Kurt could make out the grin across Sam's face.

"Come on!" he shouted over to Kurt. Kurt took a hesitant step forward.

"My dad might be home soon," he shouted over and for the first time noticed that his voice wasn't as deeper than the kid as he expected.

"It's only for a little while," Sam called back. "Do you like to play Hide-and-Seek?"

Kurt nodded then ran across the street. Up close the play park was a lot larger and the children taller. Sam called out to his other friends and to Kurt's horror the other children stopped playing and ran over to the fence. They stood there with judging eyes while Sam introduced him.

"What are you waiting for?" a girl with ponytails called out.

"Um.."

"How old are you?" another one asked.

"What school do you go too?"

Then Sam's voice cut through. "Questions are for later. Come on, Kurt." He pushed his hand through the fence and Kurt took it. A devilish grin broke across Sam's face. "You're it!" Then all the other kids ran to the opposite side of the park and Kurt just stood there in a stupor. But then he remembered they were playing Tag and he realized Sam had fooled him into believing that they were playing Hide-and-Seek so he could tag Kurt. He was drunk on happiness as he chased after them.

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**I really appreciate all your follows and faves people, go ahead, flood my inbox! Just remember, reviews are pretty darn awesome too :D**


	5. That One Kiss

**Sorry this took so long. I had exams and even though I had this chapter written already I didn't really like it so I changed up a lotta things and still didn't like it but I thought 'what the heck' and decided to just post it. **

**Warnings: none**

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**Chapter Five: That One Kiss**

Day 13…or maybe it was 15. Kurt hadn't crossed off the days for a while because he had been occupied. The day after they had come calling his name in front of the apartment building. He had seen them lined up on the lawn outside his window and immediately his chest swelled with delight that there were people who actually enjoyed his company without him having to give up his body. He had completely forgotten about his father's warning and adjusted the rule to "Don't go too far from the apartment" and "Only some people are evil" to squash his nagging conscience.

The couple days with Sam and Peter and Brianna and the ten others whose name he forgot were the best of his childhood. He was taller and older than them, a lot slimmer too but they didn't make him feel out of place. They shared their snacks and even though there was sand or dirt on some of the food he still ate it with them. At three o'clock every evening they told him goodbye and left to go home. Kurt was supposed to ask if all of them lived on the same block but he always forgot too.

Day 16, however, he remembered last minute. He called out to Sam who had become his best friend – they even exchanged phone numbers (Sam had a cellphone, shock and a little jealousy on Kurt's part) so from the time Sam got home until six in the evening they talked. Once Kurt had asked why there were screaming children in the background and Sam had laughed, saying he had several siblings.

"How come you all go home at the same time?" Kurt had asked as the children were packing their things to go home.

Sam shrugged. "We all live in the same place."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "All thirteen of you?"

"Yeah. Serendipity isn't really that big, but it's big enough." Then Sam disappeared before Kurt could ask what Serendipity was. When he went home he opened up the directory and found several Serendipities but there was only one that stood out to him: Serendipity Kids. They were all orphans. It made Kurt feel miserable to think about it and he wondered how he would face them the next day. When the time came they were completely natural and after Kurt lost himself in the games he forgot the previous apprehension.

The one thing Kurt especially enjoyed about being around Sam was that he didn't ask any questions. While all the other kids would ask him where his parents were or how come he never came outside, Sam was always talking about anything other than life in Ashwick, Michigan. He was a cheery, thoughtful kid with a head full of spontaneous ideas and colorful imagination. He went to middle school but he hated it because the teachers hated him. They constantly told him that he was stupid and he needed to pay attention more and Sam had believed them for a while until his caretaker told him that they just didn't understand how gifted he was.

Kurt preferred to believe that Sam was special instead of stupid, even when they found a torn out page from a book that Sam attempted to read but he kept putting a b where there was a d and an m where there was a w. Kurt would correct him but then he got this crestfallen look on his face so Kurt had crumpled up the paper and asked if he wanted to take a smoke instead.

Smoking was a new habit Kurt had been taught. They weren't actual cigarettes, of course, but Sam had discovered rolling up a piece of paper in the likes of a cigarette and lighting it to inhale the smoke had the same effect as a real cigarette. Kurt had asked where Sam tried a real cigarette before but the dark-haired boy would just grin with one of his missing front teeth. By now he knew that Sam was twelve going on thirteen in a couple weeks (he was almost the same height as Kurt) so he didn't think it that bad. There wasn't supposed to be a calming effect but the smoking somehow placated Kurt's anxiety. Sam thought it made him look cool. Kurt appreciated doing something that his father did when he thought Kurt was asleep.

The days he spent with Sam and the others, but mostly Sam, was what freedom felt like. His mind was free of worries about his father, where money was supposed to come from and the Voice hadn't spoken in several weeks. The cheese and sausages had finished around Day 20 and somehow Sam had noticed that Kurt was starving every time he came outside to play. Kurt surmised that because he got tired easily and sometimes had to stop running because he was too lightheaded had tipped Sam off. Sam had begun bringing him sandwiches to eat at breakfast and lunch – Kurt knew that the food came from the Home – and a snack to carry home for dinner. At first Kurt had refused which was the mannerly thing to do but then he really couldn't take the hunger any more. He had drunk water and juice only for about four days until his body could hold up no longer. He was ravenous the first day he took that sandwich.

He decided it was on Day 34 when his father returned. Kurt had woken up to find him sitting on the sofa casually watching TV as though he had never left. Kurt told him good morning and Andy turned to him with a nod of his head, his eyes oddly bloodshot. Kurt asked Andy if he was okay, to which he replied "Never better." The small glass coffee was covered in a white powder and a straw was in his father's hand. There was white powder smeared under his nose and the smile he gave Kurt was too surreal and eerie to be his dad.

When he went into the kitchen for some water, he noticed that the kitchen light had been left on and the stove was lighting. His dad had paid the bills, he noted with surprise. He made eggs, bacon and toast and drank cold orange juice for the first time in four and a half weeks.

While eating he wondered how the schedule of his servicing would be like. He considered asking his father where he had been and what he was up too, but thought it would be too invasive of him. The man deserved his privacy, at the least.

That same day, some hours later, Andy proposed an idea Kurt hadn't heard in three years. "Wanna go for ice cream?"

Kurt had to blink once. Twice. Unsure if he heard those words correctly. He hadn't eaten ice cream in forever, that delicious, scrumptious treat taking up too much needed money even if a cone was two dollars. He hadn't craved it but at some point in time his imagination wasn't enough to remember what it tasted like.

Kurt nodded his head. "I haven't had ice cream in a long while." Andy smiled at him, his eyes not as red as before.

Andy had sold his car ages ago but the ice cream store was just around the corner. They left the apartment and walked along the pavement, passing the park. Kurt was afraid to turn his head in the direction of the park for fear that Sam or someone else might call him and his father would effectively surmise that he had come outside. His posture was so stiff and tense even Andy noticed.

"You okay, kid? You seem a little tense."

"I'm okay." He forced a smile. "Just excited." Andy clamped a hand on his shoulder and guided him the rest of the way.

Kurt's excitement flared as soon as he saw the Cold Stone sign blinking neon red. The door chimed as they entered and the cold wind from the air condition mixed with the hot air outside. Ice cream didn't have a scent but the vibrant colors behind the glass display were enough to make him salivate. His skin prickled with goosebumps because of the abrupt change in temperature but he didn't mind. Strawberry-vanilla was calling his name.

He didn't have to tell Andy what he wanted. Somehow, the man had remembered Kurt's favorite ice cream. "Two double scoops cookies and cream with nuts on top and another with strawberry-vanilla; waffle cones."

Double scoop _and _waffle cones! Kurt had to glance up at his dad to make sure he was okay. Ice cream alone was rare but waffle cones and double scoops were an extra $3.50, a sacrifice his father never made. He peered down into the buckets of ice cream and watched as the woman fulfilled their order. The store was lightly crowded with families getting some ice cream on a hot day. Kurt looked around and there, he spied a head full of bushy brown hair. Just as he noticed, the boy turned around and his blue eyes fell on Kurt.

Kurt squeaked and spun back around. Sam was in the store with some other older man who Kurt had never seen before. He crossed his fingers and prayed to whoever was listening that Sam wouldn't come over and for a moment, as he reached out to get his cone he forgot all about disobeying his father and the trouble he would get in. He took his first lick, the ice cream cold and stinging on his tongue but tantalizing his taste buds all the same. Kurt closed his eyes to savor the taste of a second lick when someone tapped him on his shoulder.

He turned around to see a smiling Sam, oblivious to the adult standing right beside him. He hadn't exactly told Sam the extent of the trouble he would get in if his father knew he went outside, but he had expected even a little that Sam would understand the hidden message in Kurt ignoring him. Unfortunately, the boy didn't.

"Hey," Sam said. Kurt didn't reply.

"Who is this, Kurt?" Andy asked and already he could hear the tone of disapproval.

"My name is Sam. I'm Kurt's friend from middle school."

Instantly Kurt felt every knotted muscle and tendon relax at the casual, intelligent lie. He was able to breathe again.

"Oh," Andy said and went back to licking his ice cream.

"Wanna go outside?" Sam asked. Kurt looked up to Andy for approval. Andy grunted. Kurt followed Sam out.

"So your dad came back?" Sam began. "My dad says he knows yours. They used to drink together."

Kurt couldn't get past the fact that Sam knew one of his parents. "Yeah, he's back. Thanks a lot for lying back there. For a second I thought…"

Sam narrowed his eyebrows. "What would have happened if he knew you went outside?"

He shook his head. "Nothing too bad. He would have argued with me."

"It seemed more than that to me. You looked like you were about to explode back there." Sam laughed but Kurt forgot to join in. Sam changed the topic. "My dad came to visit me. He's only allowed too once a month and he gets to take me out but not very far from the home."

"That's great," Kurt said. He glanced back and saw Andy holding a conversation with Sam's father who was tall, tan and had very dark, curly hair. "Is your dad Mexican?"

Sam chuckled. "Puerto Rican, actually, but I understand the confusion."

Kurt smiled. There was a short silence, one in which both of them knew what the other had to say but found it hard to say it. "You do know-"

"Yeah," Sam said dejectedly. "This is goodbye then?"

Kurt nodded, unable to look Sam in the eye. There was a feeling of absolute loneliness as reality dawned on him. Just as quickly as he made a friend, in the blink of an eye he lost him.

"Don't worry, I'll find some way for us to keep talking without your dad knowing."

Kurt grinned, hope blooming in his chest and a sudden admiration of Sam's bravery. In the back of his head he knew the chances were slim but the effort was comforting. "I'd like that."

Then Sam leaned forward and pressed his cold, chapped lips against Kurt's, quick enough for no one to notice but with enough contact that it sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Kurt stood there with his mouth open as Sam smiled one last time and turned away. He reentered the store just as Andy came out.

Luckily, Andy had seen nothing as there was a chipper smile on his face. "How's the ice cream?" Kurt had to look down at his hand to remember the strawberry-vanilla that was steadily melting and dripping down his hand. He gave it three huge licks then showed his dad a thumbs up to say it was delicious. "Great. Let's go then?"

Kurt licked his lips and smiled when there was a little remnant of Sam's chocolate ice cream on them. His lips tingled all the way home, uncaring that Sam was a little younger than who he expected his first kiss with.

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A week later of a necessary protein and carbohydrate-filled diet, Andy came home with a woman. Kurt was thinking about Sam, had been all week-long and was filled with a new hope that maybe the brunette would find a way for them to talk again, when his dad called him from his room to meet a customer.

On closer inspection Kurt saw that it was in fact a man dressed as a woman. He knew because of the manly hands and the strongly built legs underneath the super tight jeans. The tube top he had on somehow showed the imprint of breasts but the shoulders were too strong and the arms too corded with muscles. Kurt had taken an unconscious step back but there Andy was, his hand gripping the small of Kurt's back and pushing him closer. _You self-centered child. Be grateful to your father. _Kurt's head snapped. The Voice was back.

The man came over to him and held his chin in his hand. "He's pretty," he said in a fake woman's voice. "How much for one night?"

"Seventy-five dollars an hour," Andy replied proudly. He had raised the price.

"When I mean one night, I mean an _entire _night," the man said lowly, his eyes reflecting what it must be like to look into the face of the devil.

"Come into the living room and we'll work out a price," Andy said, his voice revealing his barely controlled excitement. "Kurt, go into your room and get ready." He didn't even look down at Kurt to give him an encouraging smile or an 'it's-going-to-be-okay' pat on the back. The previous comfort they held around each other after the ice cream trip instantly vanished. He pushed Kurt in the direction of the room so he had no choice to obey.

He was oddly unattached to his body as he went through the motions of showering and brushing his teeth then changing into a nightshirt. He felt numb. He didn't know why but there was a new feeling inside of him, a contemporary emotion that swelled in his heart and hurt whenever he thought about his father. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Just as fast he got rid of the emotion. It was wrong to be angry with his father, as much as he admittedly hated the man at the moment.

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**It's just a peck people, nothing much. Completely innocent...in a way ;) Now... tell me all your feels!**


	6. They Do Exist

**So...no excuses besides laziness. But this chapter is kinda light so I hope it makes up. **

**Warnings: BDSM**

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**Chapter Six: They Do Exist**

Kurt had only dreamed of his mother once after she had died, two weeks after the funeral. He was in the backseat of a car, the edges of the dream fuzzy and cloudy like all others, and they were driving in some rich suburban neighborhood to go pick up his mother. They had arrived at a four-story mansion, complete with an automatic gate, a courtyard and a bunch of expensive shrubs and flowers. A woman had come out of the gate and from his seat in the car, he couldn't see her head as she was taller than the vehicle, but he _knew _it was Marina.

She was walking around the side of the car to the backseat where he was and suddenly he was filled with this intense emotion of bliss and so much happiness that his heart swelled and his cheeks ached from grinning. She was about to open the door and finally he would see her face when the dream ended. Dreams of her never came again.

Until now.

It came as a shock to him, opening his eyes to the blurred lines of his imagination. They were in Bee's Ice Cream Parlor where she always took him if he got a grade A on his exam or he did something she was extremely proud of – like stitching the tears in her worn nurse's shrubs with the perfect color of thread or sticking back the heel on her black work shoes. They were eating ice cream and looking out the window, playing a favorite game of his where she counted all the red cars and he counted all the blue ones and whoever got the most got a candy bar.

The game was 12 – 8, in his favor, when his mother abruptly turned towards him and placed a hand on his, her fingertips cold from the air condition in the shop. He looked at her and stopped licking his ice cream, her face creased with worry and heavy with a burden he couldn't see.

She spoke to him and although she was right in front of him, her voice came as though the whole building was speaking to him. Not exactly from her mouth but from all around. "I want you to hold on, okay?" she said and the disquieting stare she pinned him with was enough to make him nod his head, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.

"I know things are rough and all," she continued, "but they are going to get better. You just can't give up or give in just yet. Okay?" He nodded again. "Always remember that every cloud has its silver lining."

He giggled at the Stuart Little reference. "Won't that make them heavy?"

She smiled fondly at him but the matter at hand wiped the softness away from her face too quickly. "Yours may seem far ahead, but it's right around the corner. It may take a while to get there, but that's why stepping stones exist."

"Stepping stones?" he asked. It felt strange talking in a dream, almost as though he could control what was happening in his semi-conscious state and it felt so realistic, down to the vanilla ice cream, that he could have believed it.

"You remember that camping trip when we had to cross the river and the waters were a bit choppy and the riverbed deep?" He nodded again. "There was no other way to the campsite but by crossing the river. There were scary animals behind us the whole time but the campsite was safe and fenced around. We had gotten a bit lost on the way."

Kurt licked the ice cream that had dripped down his hand and around the cone. "What about it?"

"The only way to cross the river was by using those stepping stones. They looked almost God-sent, honestly, in an almost perfect line straight across the river with a little jump at the end."

His mother was an avid church-goer and she often took Kurt to services but Andy was not. Kurt was too young to really understand what the preacher shouted and sweated about and the church was hot and stifling and his belly grumbled a lot so back then he hated church.

"I let you go first, in front of me, because I didn't want the animals to get to you. You were so scared because you thought the stones weren't sturdy enough and that you'd fall over but you did it. You crossed the river and you reached the other side." She smiled, remembering clearly what happened. Kurt remembered it too but there was nothing for him to smile about because at that moment he was so scared he feared he was about to shit in his pants.

"That's what stepping stones are, instead they are real people. Kind, friendly people who would help you out of your struggles to the other side where it's safe. You may not trust them in the beginning, but eventually you'll learn too and things will be alright." She placed her palm on his face which was strangely warm and he snuggled his face in it. "Things will be alright."

Then the dream faded around them until there was nothing. He felt himself being pushed to the surface, back to a conscious state.

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Waking up disoriented was the worst feeling. His body felt like lead, his vision was cloudy and he couldn't feel his limbs. It took several minutes, or perhaps it was several hours of just lying there on the bed until he could feel some strength returning to him. There was a hollow feeling in his stomach, a profound and aching hunger that sent waves of nausea through him. He had never felt that hungry before. His throat was parched and there was an odd stinging sensation on his wrists and ankles. The dream was pushed to the back of his head.

Finally, his eyes cleared and he made out his room. He turned his head to the left and saw a folded table that had been set up with mechanical devices Kurt couldn't quite make out. On the right side were discarded clothes, a syringe and an empty bottle of Viagra. Kurt screwed up his face at the erection pills, wondering where those came from. The window was open. Cool air blew in and made him aware of the sheen of sweat on his body. His mind felt ten times slower than normal but maybe a shower might help to wake him up.

He raised his body; felt a jarring in his arms and fell back down on the bed. The way his head hit the pillow made his brain go spinning wildly and the world started tilting. Kurt shut his eyes tight to quell the headache. He opened an eye slowly and tried instead to put his arms under him then push up but his arms wouldn't move. Something was restraining him and each time he pulled there was a restrictive force that yanked his arm back. He turned his head and saw with much horror that his right arm was handcuffed to the bed. The cuffs were two sizes too small and his wrists were caked in dried blood from where the metal cut into his skin. When Kurt twisted his hand, weirdly enough it didn't hurt.

His left hand was in the same position but this time there was fresh blood that was running down his hand. He figured he could at least sit up and find a way to break free from the wooden bedposts but his legs only lifted an inch above the mattress when it could move no higher and fell back down. His ankles were cuffed too with dried blood around the metal. Kurt wanted to panic, he was supposed to, but his brain just would not allow it. He couldn't make enough sense of the situation and his head was stuffed with cotton. Even his ears felt muted and the sense of touch was already gone.

He looked down at his chest and was amazed at the scratches and discoloration all over it. His nipples were angry and swollen, bright blood caked around them. The sides of his body had linear, red and swollen scrapes possibly done by fingernails. His hips had finger-shaped bruises and so did his thighs. There were teeth marks on his chest and inner thighs.

Kurt grew alarmed knowing that someone did something to his body last night, awful horrifying things that he couldn't remember. Not knowing made things even worse because it could have been _anything_. He had been subdued easily, led by the nose and so dominated that he couldn't even recollect what had been done to him.

He tried to call his dad for help. His tongue was swollen and heavy in his mouth and saliva dripped down his jaw. That was when his body kicked into action and he panicked.

He pulled and tugged at his restraints until the bed rocked and both wrists were bleeding and the blood from his ankles was soiling the sheets and he had started crying somewhere along the way because he was screaming although it sounded like a muffled cry and no one had heard him yet. He ran through awful scenarios of a thief breaking in and killing his father and now he was left all alone with no one to take off the handcuffs and he'd be stuck there forever-

The door opened. A stranger with an off-kilter wig poked his head in. Kurt recognized him as the transsexual – he thought that was the word for them – from the night before and sluggishly he started to piece the puzzle together.

"He's up," the man said without the fake voice. "With some side effects, I see." He chuckled darkly and entered the room fully. He only had on a pair of boxers. Kurt's jaw dropped – or maybe it didn't as he still couldn't feel anything – when he saw the two C-cup breasts on the man's chest with pointed nipples and everything. He saw where Kurt's eyes were focused.

"Like what you see?" he asked seductively, bringing his hands up to juggle them. Kurt snorted in disgust. The man grew cross. "Well you fucking begged for it last night, you damn _slut_. I should leave you there, shouldn't I?"

Kurt was alarmed. He didn't want to stay locked to his bed any longer because it was beginning to scare him. He had no control over his body, he could barely move and there was this _thing _standing before him that could dominate his every will. Kurt was accustomed to being dominated but this was a whole new level he had never been introduced too. Sure they used toys sometimes but never restraints as his father had those elements of BDSM.

There was an event in the past where Kurt all but groveled at his father's feet to inhibit the ban and only after he had shown the countless scars and how much it frightened him to the point where he wanted to piss himself when they brought out whips and chains did Andy finally listen. They had had a long discussion on what Kurt could deal with and what he couldn't deal with, the importance of introducing safe words before they began, and what to do in a situation where the customer wasn't being compliant. Light restraint such as blindfolds was allowed, however. Kurt didn't mind as long as there was limited pain involved.

"Untie him already. The poor kid's starving." Andy. Kurt breathed out shakily that his father had come to the rescue.

The man at the door rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed. He took up a key on the nightstand which made Kurt feel incredibly stupid that the key to his escape was right there while he panicked. When he unlocked the handcuffs, the releasing of the pressure caused a spike of pain in his wrists and ankles. The blood had clotted but was still sticky.

"That's gotta hurt," the man mumbled. Kurt was too calmed that he was freed to care. When his legs were unchained he stood up, wobbled on his feet and fell forward. The man caught him. "Side effects," he explained.

"How long will it last?" Kurt meant to ask but his heavy tongue just flapped in his mouth and spit ran down his chin.

"It might wear off from ten minutes to a couple hours. I'm letting you go now. I shouldn't even have to do this."

Kurt planted his feet firmly on the ground and bent his knees. He extended his arms to the side for balance. Then three things happened at once. Kurt took his first solid step, the man broke out into laughter and the door to his bedroom which was slightly ajar was busted down with a rambunctious noise and heavy boots stomping on the floor. The room was swarmed with armed men in less than three seconds. The laughter instantly stopped and both Kurt and the man stood frozen to the spot.

Kurt knew what it looked like: a naked teenager barely standing with a middle-aged, shirtless transsexual just letting go of his wrists to make a mockery of him, sex toys and discarded clothes all over the room; handcuffs and blood-stained sheets on the bed. What went on next still caught him totally unawares.

"Don't move!" an officer shouted and then one pounced on the man and pinned him to the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me!" the man roared. The officer pulled out handcuffs, similar but much bigger than Kurt's and locked the man's hands behind his back while simultaneously announcing the Miranda rights. "Fuck, that hurts!" The officer pulled him brutally off the ground and tugged at the handcuffs so he had to bend back, cursing, to avoid his shoulders dislocating from the sockets. The officer led the man outside.

Kurt stood there, not knowing what to do. His eyes were wide and frightful and he was slightly shaking although if it was from fear or the cold wind blowing through the window or even the side effects he couldn't discern. The men dropped their weapons and suddenly a woman stepped forward from behind the brigade of bullet-proof vests and AK-47s. She had a shrewd face with sharp features and brown hair held tightly in a neat ponytail. Her attire was all business and professional, her eyes cold and demeaning. Kurt took a step back and glanced quickly to the door to see if he could run.

She saw where his eyes went. "I know what you're thinking, but we're not here to hurt you." Her voice wasn't soft and comforting so it relayed her words with a whole different meaning. "Please don't resist and just come with us. We can help you." She enunciated each word carefully like if Kurt was a five-year old now learning how to speak.

"I don't-"

A scream came from the living room. "Kurt! Kurt!" His father was shouting for help. Kurt didn't think. He just acted. He ran towards the brigade, slipped through the space between two police officers and out through the busted door. Adrenaline fueled his movements, gave him purpose. There he saw his father being held down by two officers with one of them kneeing him in the back to get the handcuffs on. Andy was red in the face and calling out for Kurt.

"Dad!" He rushed forward and kicked the officer on Andy's back in the head then pushed away the other. He tried to pull up his dad who immediately ran for the door. Kurt was about to follow when rough arms wrapped around his torso and held him back. He was lifted off the floor while he kicked wildly at the air. He looked up and saw that Andy had been caught too and was now pinned up on the wall, still screaming.

"Let him go!" Kurt yelled, tears springing from nowhere and streaming down his face. "_Please! _You're _hurting _him! Let him go!"

He thrashed wildly in the officer's arms and bawled as he saw his father handcuffed and being led out the door. He pulled and kicked and screamed but nothing, _nothing _would make this stupid officer let him go. His dad was being led down the stairs in a stream of profanities and Kurt was calling after him. Andy looked up at him and repeated his name until Kurt couldn't hear him any longer.

He could no longer see him. Kurt threw his head back and wailed because they were _taking his dad away from him_. They were taking the only person he had left away from him and out of his life to God-knows-where and there was nothing he could do about it. His body twisted and he pushed up and for a second he was falling forward and maybe he could make it but just as quickly they snatched him up again and now his arms were pinned to his sides so he definitely couldn't move. He leaned forward with all his strength and the officer bent double but it wasn't enough. It just _wasn't enough_. He shrieked at them and said every bad word he could think of and when the shrewd woman appeared before his blurry vision entirely calm and composed he turned his undeterred hatred on her because _she_ was the one that caused all of this.

He called her every insult he could sum up and she just stood there like his words were having no effect. The tears were still coming and by now he had given himself a headache. His voice was hoarse from screaming and it hurt to talk anymore. At one point in time he stopped and he let his body fall limp. All he could do was cry and when the officer realized he wasn't fighting anymore, he let Kurt go. There was no need to run or try to get away. Andy was already in a police car driving to a station miles away. Too far away for Kurt to run on his unsteady legs.

He slumped to his knees and bent over to rest his throbbing head on the cool, wooden floor. He wrapped his arms around himself still sobbing. Everywhere hurt.

"Sedate him," he heard the woman say above him. "He might start up again." But Kurt was too tired and too weak to do anything as he laid there on the floor. His father was gone. His mother was dead. He no longer could predict what the bleak future held for him. He had nothing. If this was what Andy felt like when the accident occurred, Kurt understood. _He understood. _Because no one went through this much emotional pain and came out unscarred.

At that moment he fucked everything. Abnegation, responsibilities, sacrifices. With a final 'fuck you' to Fate herself, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and almost immediately he fell into a deep abyss.

_Things will be alright, _the words came to him.


	7. Don't See Why

**I took forever again :/ There's a little surprise in this chapter though. Just a little one. :)**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Don't See Why**

Kurt remembered the last time he had been to the hospital was when he was eight. He was running down the stairs in his socks on a Christmas morning, giddy with excitement to open his presents. There was no friction between the socks and the floor so just as easily he slipped on the top stair, fell back and hit his head on the ground then bumped and tumbled and rolled till he reached the bottom of the stairs. There was a dull, throbbing pain in his right arm which was bent in such an angle where his palm was under his back and his elbow was almost by his mouth. The bone by his elbow had protruded, stark white and gruesome with a _lot _of blood running down his forearm. He didn't scream because it hadn't hurt him. Half an hour later as they were wheeling him into the emergency room the synapses between his nerves started transmitting again and he had let out such a mighty howl that he was sure he had shaken the very foundations of the hospital. He had spent his Christmas and two weeks after that in the hospital.

Waking up in the bleak, white room was no different than when he woke up those years ago. The only slight alteration was that he was on drips. The hospital gown felt like itchy paper on his skin and his head felt too big for his body. His tongue wasn't swollen but when he experimentally tried to talk, his throat hurt too much. He licked his lips which had dried and peeled so badly that they felt like sandpaper against his tongue. He looked at the IV stuck in his arm and wondered what it was there for. The various machines around the room were familiar, the steady beeping of the heart monitor a comfort for him.

He closed his eyes and allowed the past events to come rushing back to him. It could have been last night or several days that it happened. Either way, it hurt. It fucking hurt. Just picturing his father being hauled away so savagely formed a lump in his throat and made the back of his eyes burn. He was surprised that he was still able to cry from all that pathetic sobbing he did that night. Kurt felt wretched and incompetent that he couldn't help Andy. It would have been fine if his father had escaped because surely he would have returned to free Kurt but _both _of them had been captured. He banged his head against the pillow which barely allowed his self-hatred to find a means of escape. His life was dull and barren now. He thought of what would happen after he came out of the hospital: where he would go, what the officers would do to him, if he would end up in a home to never be adopted because he was too broken for anyone to want him.

He wanted his father so badly that the emotional pain took on a solid, agonizing form that ate away at his body from the inside out. The Voice had taken this as an incentive to scold him of how worthless and useless he was and always would be. Kurt believed it because there was nothing else to prove otherwise.

The door to his hospital room opened and a male nurse in blue scrubs entered with a tray. He was young, possibly not much older than Kurt, with curly brown hair neatly gelled in an elegant quiff. He smiled sweetly at him and his big, brown eyes lit up. Kurt hated him. Here he was smiling brighter than the sun while he was drowning in his bleak world. How dare him!

"I had a feeling you would be up," he said as he uncovered the food on the tray. There were two sandwiches, a glass of orange juice and some tablets on the side. "My name is Blaine by the way and I'll be your volunteer nurse for the time you'll be spending here."

_Blaine_ Kurt thought. _What an awful name._ Blaine took out a folded plastic lap table from the second shelf of the tray and unfolded it across Kurt's lap. He pushed a button by the bedhead and suddenly Kurt's upper body was lifted up into a seating position. The blood rushing down from his head had him dizzy for a second. He blinked away the lightheadedness and saw that Blaine had already placed the food on the table.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt told him. His voice grated on his own ears.

Blaine smiled again. Kurt decided he hated that smile with its infuriating cheeriness and improbable radiance. "You have to eat, Mr. Caffrey. It's about time you got some solid food in your system." He reached up and turned off the drips then looked down at him expectantly. "Do you need me to feed you?"

Kurt shot him a quizzical look then lifted his hands to show Blaine that he wasn't handicapped. He just didn't want to eat. He turned his head away from the boring food and looked out the barred window. The curtain had been drawn and he could see the city skyline of high and low buildings.

"Would you like me to open the windows for you?"

He nodded without looking at him. Blaine walked over to the window, unhooked the clasp and lifted it. The bars were still there but the rush of cool air made it easier to breathe in the stuffy, medicated room. Kurt leaned his head back on the pillow and suddenly noticed that his throat was dry. While Blaine was looking out the window, he sipped some of the orange juice and felt his salivary glands tingle at the sweetness. It must have been a while he was unconscious for his mouth to react that way.

Blaine turned around, saw the almost empty glass and quirked a brow. "I'll go get you some more," he announced and picked up the glass. As soon as he left the room Kurt gave into his hunger and bit into the sandwich. It was chicken with lettuce and tomatoes and just the right amount of ketchup. Kurt hadn't tasted chicken in _weeks _and sausage didn't really cut it. He ate the both sandwiches and licked the ketchup off his fingers after. Blaine returned at the perfect moment when he needed something to swallow it down.

Blaine grinned at him, a secret smile like he was laughing at things Kurt didn't know of. He scowled. He was caught red-handed. He knew that Blaine knew Kurt just needed a little alone time to get over his stubbornness. He was upset, of course, and upset people needed to be left alone sometimes. He handed Kurt the juice and he drank half the glass before controlling himself to little sips.

"It's time for your medication." He pointed to the pills on the table.

Kurt looked at the myriad of colors then turned his gaze to the volunteer. "What are they for?" His voice was slightly better after whetting his throat.

"Iron tablets, B vitamins and cal-mag supplements. You had several deficiencies but the tests say that you're okay now. You just need this one dose to settle things."

Kurt didn't know what iron or vitamins or cal-mag was needed for (what the hell was even cal-mag?) but they sounded important so he took them one by one. The iron tablet was too hard for him to swallow so Blaine had to cut it in half for him. They tasted disgusting on the way down and the scent seemed to be stuck in his nose. He screwed up his face and Blaine chuckled lightly.

"I'm not too sure but I overheard the doctors talking about discharging you today."

Kurt choked while drinking the orange juice and stared, aghast at Blaine. He noticed Kurt's expression and his smile fell. "What are they going to do with me? Where am I supposed to go?"

Blaine's expression saddened. "I'm not too sure. The police would want to interview you first and then…" He busied herself with cleaning up the table on Kurt's lap. Kurt gave him some time and when he had pushed the tray of dirty dishes outside and returned, he spoke again. "They might send you to a home."

Kurt was going to get upset but then he remembered: his best friend lived in a home too. His face brightened. "Do you get to choose?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know anything about that. Maybe, if you give them valid reasons."

Kurt nodded, absorbing the information. He wouldn't mind going to a home and if he was allowed the freedom that Sam and the others have, he may even be able to visit his father sometimes. He smiled.

Blaine frowned. "Don't get your hopes up too much. Most of the time they transfer the children to Ohio."

"Why?" Kurt asked, his hope unwavering.

"Better lawyers, better therapists, better orphanages. We don't have enough facilities here in Ashwick and Ohio is always open to taking in new kids."

"So they'll just send me straight to an orphanage?"

"It depends-"

The door suddenly opened and two men in black entered. Behind them was a woman who Kurt remembered all too well.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Blaine said crossly.

One of the men opened his jacket and pulled out his police badge. "I believe we can."

The shrew cut in. "I heard he woke up today and I came over. We need information as soon as possible before the media gets their hands on this and start messing things up. Is he ready to go?"

Blaine tried to remain professional but Kurt could see the strain this was putting on him. He was probably new here. "You need to speak to Dr. Dessai first."

The woman rolled her eyes. "We've spoken to the doctor already and he's given us the green lights. I'm kindly asking you to take out the IV and get him in some clothes so we can take him downtown."

Blaine's jaw clenched but he did what the woman wanted him too anyways. What choice did he have? In the meanwhile, Kurt looked around the room at anything but the three people there with him. He could feel all of their eyes on him, watching him intently as though he was a circus freak and they were waiting for his big performance. Kurt closed his eyes and tried to keep calm but his heart was racing a million miles a minute. He had no idea what was going to happen to him and that scared him to dangerous degrees.

Blaine returned with a first aid kit. Some of his brown hair had escaped from the neat quiff as though he had been plucking at the strands in frustration. He turned to Kurt and began to take out the IV from his arm. When he pulled out the tube blood welled to the surface and leaked with every breath Kurt took. Blaine quickly pressed a cotton ball to the area where the tube was inserted and applied pressure. He instructed Kurt to hold down the cotton as he did until he told Kurt to stop. Then he took up the kit and disappeared again without a word.

The woman was standing silently at the door, watching Blaine work with a bemused smile. After Blaine left she turned her attention to Kurt. "Ashley Sharikova, State Police," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry to disturb you," Kurt knew she wasn't, "but you're going to have to come with us to the police station as soon as you're discharged."

He knew that at some moment they would have come for him. He just thought he would have a couple days to think everything through and devise a plan on how he would get out of all the trouble without the state breathing down on his neck every minute. Unfortunately, those precious days were spent unconscious and now his time was up.

He remembered one thing she mentioned though. Kurt asked, "Why is it that the media would be interested in me?"

Kurt wasn't expecting her to answer but she did. "Ashwick hasn't had such a scandal in decades. There's no better reason than that."

Now he was intrigued. "Scandal?"

Ashley frowned. "You'll see eventually." Just then Blaine came into the room rolling a wheelchair and a duffel bag. He told Kurt he could stop applying pressure now. The cotton was soaked with blood but it had clotted.

"I'm taking him for a shower," Blaine said without looking at Ashley.

"It's amazing how much your emotions have become invested in your work, Mr. Anderson," Ashley commented. "I hope it doesn't affect your career in the long run." Her tone said anything but.

Blaine pulled the sheets off of Kurt and asked him if he could move his legs. He nodded and shifted both legs so they were dangling off the side of the bed. Then he hooked his arm around Blaine's neck and stepped off. Immediately they gave out under him but Blaine held onto him tightly. He sat him down gently in the wheelchair and placed the duffel bag on his lap. When he looked inside he saw a pair of jeans, some sneakers and a T-shirt together with a towel and a box of soap. He wondered when the last time had been since he had taken a shower.

He wheeled Kurt out of the room and down a long hall with beige walls and a stark white floor which opened up to a receptionist area. He took a left and then a right before going through double doors. The bathroom was large on this floor with around 15 shower stalls on one side and toilets on the other. Next to each stall was a changing room and some of them were occupied. Blaine wheeled him into a changing room.

"Do you need any help getting out of the gown?"

Kurt shook his head. "I think I could manage." Blaine nodded then closed the door. Kurt took off the itchy material in under a minute. He knocked on the door and Blaine opened it. Kurt peeked up at him, expecting Blaine to be looking him over with hungry eyes but he was busy getting out the soap and towel. Then again, Blaine wasn't classed in the genre of sleazy old men whom he attracted the most.

He rolled Kurt out of the stall and in front of the bathroom door. He was about to ask if he had to stand for the entire thing but in the bathroom was a little bench in front of the shower head. Blaine helped him onto it and adjusted the heat before turning on the shower. Kurt closed his eyes and hissed as the water hit sensitive spots. Blaine lowered the pressure and with a soft washcloth, he cleaned Kurt off. He blushed when Blaine reached the lower region but he was experienced so he didn't act as childish as Kurt did.

Thoughts of Andy returned in the silence. He tried to push it down but there was nothing to distract him. Blaine was silent as he dressed him. Kurt wished he would talk to him. He took in what Blaine said about being transferred to Ohio. He didn't know anyone in Ohio, had never even been there even though it was so close to Ashwick. Chills ran through his body.

"I'm afraid," he admitted quietly, not even sure if Blaine had heard him.

He did. "Everyone's afraid sometimes. It's what you do about the fear that counts." He buckled Kurt's pants.

"What if I can't do anything?"

"Then, just hang tight." He fixed his T-shirt and smiled at him. "Be brave and show them that you can take care of yourself, Kurt." His words were phrased differently but the meaning behind them stirred something in his brain, a peculiar memory that he couldn't quite remember but he knew it was there.

Kurt's eyes pricked and out of the blue he was just crying. Blaine knelt at his side and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back affectionately and shushing him gently. Soon he stopped and wiped away the tears.

He felt infinitely better. "I'm okay now," he told him. Blaine watched him warily for a second but stood up nonetheless. He gathered the gown and the wet towel and soap and placed them in the bag again.

"Let's get you back before that woman blows a fuse."

Kurt didn't want to go. He wanted to ask Blaine so many questions that it was hard to keep track of all of them. He didn't know where to begin or how to bring it up and they were already at the receptionist's area. And there Ashley was, signing papers and laughing with a handsome, middle-aged doctor in a white robe. It was too late.

"Goodbye, Kurt," Blaine said with a sad smile. Then he backed away and one of the men in black came and took hold of his wheelchair. His chest heaved and his throat ached and he was crying pitifully again as they wheeled him away. He bit his lip but the sobs just burst through and soon he was shaking in his chair because every awful thing came back to him and this reminded him too much of when they took him away from Andy. All he wanted was to be left alone. He didn't need officials and State County in his life but they pushed themselves in and _ruined everything_.

Ashley wordlessly handed him a rag which he let fall into his lap. He didn't want anything from her. They left the hospital and approached a black SUV with darkly tinted windows. The other man opened the door and Ashley got in first followed by Kurt with some assistance. The wheelchair was folded up and placed in the trunk.

The men took the front row and seconds later they were driving away. Kurt had tried to stop crying. He was shivering now.

"I hope you won't be a problem, Mr. Caffrey, and you'll assist us in solving this case," Ashley said, completely ignoring his emotional state.

He was too tired to bother and rested his head on the glass pane. His crying got quieter. He couldn't understand what made his situation a case that needed to be solved. The police didn't help him in any way. He found no reason to return it.


End file.
